


fancy seeing you here

by unsungillumination



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (sort of), Aged Up, Chance Encounters AU, College AU, Fluff, M/M, No Spoilers, Random Encounters AU, University AU, no powers au, spoiler free, those aren't tags but i am making them tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsungillumination/pseuds/unsungillumination
Summary: could it be coincidence that keeps leading akira to bump into the pretty stranger from the coffee shop? or could it be the fact that akira keeps going out of his way to bump into said pretty stranger? truly, one of life's greatest mysteries.





	fancy seeing you here

**Author's Note:**

> no powers in this universe! that, and they're older than they are in game. they're in university (college). akira and ryuji are roommates, akechi is a year older and probably a TA or similar. i'd estimate around 21-22 years old.
> 
> i have THOUSANDS of words of meta and characterisation notes on all of these guys. and then for this fic, because the setting is a lot less serious, i was just like "EH go with what you feel", so figure this is what their personalities would be like if their lives didn't Suck. and also akira's a fucking memelord, because apparently that's what i do when i get a blank slate character. i make them a meme. this is 6500 words of memes.
> 
> fucking enjoy it, my dudes.

 

   No one’s supposed to look _good_ in a sweater vest.

   The guy's holding a binder full of important-looking files and folders. _Ever heard of a laptop, nerd?_ Who owns a binder?

   Who _holds their binder_? He has a briefcase _right_ there.

   Who has _briefcases_ anymore? It’s monogrammed.

   Akira fumes.

   Nobody’s supposed to look this nice in a sweater vest. They’re impossible to pull off.

   (Akira wouldn’t mind pulling it off.)

   (This isn’t an appropriate train of thought for a coffee shop.)

   This coffee shop is too fancy. It’s populated with sweater vests and briefcases and a cappuccino costs five hundred yen. He can’t be picky; you take what you can get when finals start in two days and for the past seventeen hours you’ve done nothing but binge old eighties sitcoms, slack-jawed and slack-limbed on the couch. But Akira Kurusu is personally offended by this coffee shop, and he’s personally offended by his own bank account, and he’s personally offended by Mr. Sweater Vest, who is standing calmly in front of him in line.

   Mr. Sweater Vest absently brushes his hair behind his ear with a pen.

   His hair looks really soft.

   He probably uses conditioner made of mermaids or some shit.

   He’s probably an asshole.

   He’s probably a pompous, arrogant _asshole_. He’d probably look down his nose (cute nose) (shut up) at Akira’s unbrushed hair, and at Akira’s hands shoved in his jeans, and Akira’s _jeans_ , and _Akira_ , and he’d probably hoist his _briefcase_ up a little higher with a sniff and a scornful laugh and god _damn_ it Akira’s gonna ask him out. God, _fucking_ –

   – _damn it_ , but Akira has a type, and it’s anyone who looks like they might be the worst person in the world, and all’s fair in love and _stupid fucking sweater vests_.

   _Hi_ , he envisions himself saying. _Hi, I’m Akira. I think you’re cute. I like your sweater vest. Can I buy you a coffee?_

   It’s polite.

   It’s proper. It’s the appropriate behaviour to match the collection of antique guitars in the corner of this godforsaken coffee shop. It’s perfect.

   …

   Nah.

   Before he can (not) talk himself out of it, Akira launches himself forward and crashes into Mr. Sweater Vest with a convincing yelp.

   Mr. Sweater Vest gives a small gasp and drops his binder on the floor, and a couple of papers splay out onto the carpet (which is probably vintage, or some shit like that that Akira probably doesn’t even have the vocabulary for).

   “Oh, my god,” says Akira. “I’m so sorry.”

   “Uh,” says Mr. Sweater Vest, and stares at his papers on the floor. “It’s alright.” And Akira silently swears, because holy shit _._

   And then the guy actually turns around and smiles at him, and Akira silently causes an entire congregation of nuns to faint in horror, because holy – _fucking_ – _shitballs_ – on a _Jesus Christ shaped bicycle_.

   _Don’t die._ “I’m such a klutz,” says Akira. _A human being can live with thirst for up to three days_. “Are you okay?”

   “Yes,” says Mr. Sweater Vest. He laughs. Akira dies a little. “Yes, I believe so. Are you…?”

   “Yeah,” says Akira. “I’m fine. Sorry. Let me help you pick up your things.”

   “No, no, that’s quite alright, it’s not much,” says Mr. Sweater Vest, and he bends over to shuffle through his papers, and Akira internally apologises for the Christcycle and thanks the Lord for his own genius.

   “Well,” says Akira, tearing his eyes from a decidedly below-sweater-vest region of things. “Let me at least buy your drink.”

   “Oh, no –”

   “C’mon,” Akira pleads. “I feel bad.”

   “I…” Mr. Sweater Vest straightens up and laughs a small and uncomfortable laugh. He brushes a stray wave of hair out of his eyes. “I was going to get the iced chai.”

   Nine hundred yen! It’s the most expensive drink on the menu. Akira hates this coffee shop. “That’s fine.”

   “You look rather stricken.”

   There’s nine hundred and thirteen yen in his bank account. “I can afford it.” Thirteen yen is enough for three days.

   “Well, alright then,” says Mr. Sweater Vest, and smiles at him. Akira decides he would dump his life savings into a lake if he could relive this moment. “Thank you.”

   “No problem.” Does he _need_ to pay off his student loans? Can he just spend the rest of his life buying this guy his stupid expensive drinks at this dumbass coffee shop that might sue him for tracking mud on the doormat?

   He pays for the chai.

   “Anything for you?” asks the barista.

   Nothing costs thirteen yen. “No, thank you.”

   Mr. Sweater Vest raises an eyebrow. Akira doesn’t look at it. It’s probably a perfect eyebrow. Fuck this guy. ( _I’m trying_ , supplies Akira’s brain. He dumps a cup of cognitive coffee on it.)

   “Iced chai,” the barista calls after a few minutes. Mr. Sweater Vest accepts it with a smile. The last shred of Akira’s dignity and caution hurls itself off a cliff.

   They walk outside. Akira’s lungs do a double-take at the sudden intrusion of commoner oxygen. No more Antique Dust That’s Probably Made Of Diamonds. Back to stale cigarettes and the faint and concerningly ever-present scent of urine. It smells like garbage. Home sweet home.

   (The coffee shop probably isn’t actually all that fancy. He’s just broke.)

   Mr. Sweater Vest shoots him a wry look.

   “Thank you for the drink,” he says. “I’m sorry you didn’t get anything for yourself.”

   _You’re more refreshing than coffee._

   _No, that’s fucking stupid._ “No problem.”

   Mr. Sweater Vest takes a dainty sip.

   “You do know I only agreed to let you pay because it was patently obvious that you bumped me on purpose,” he says conversationally.

   Akira is momentarily glad that he’s too broke to buy a cappuccino. At least this way he doesn’t have anything to choke on. “What?”

   “I thought I ought to give you a chance, at the very least,” says Mr. Sweater Vest, infuriatingly pleasant.

   “Uh – uh…”

   Mr. Sweater Vest laughs. “There are better ways to court someone than by assaulting them, you know,” he says.

   “I, um. I.”

   Mr. Sweater Vest laughs again. “Well,” he says. “I have to be going now, I’m afraid.” He adjusts his briefcase and looks Akira up and down, considering. “I’m here most Thursdays,” he adds. “If you ever wanted to try again.”

   In the time it takes Akira to gather his senses back into an unseemly pile, Mr. Sweater Vest has vanished into the traffic.

 

* * *

 

   He is not in the coffee shop the following Thursday.

 

* * *

 

   Nor the Thursday after that.

 

* * *

 

   “Are you going to buy anything?” asks the frustrated barista, and Akira abandons his awkward skulking to scuttle out the door.

 

* * *

 

   “You can’t buy a week of groceries with three hundred and sixty seven yen,” says Akira.

   “Not with that attitude,” says Ryuji loftily, and Akira sighs and trails behind as his roommate makes a beeline for the ramen. “You know, we’d have more if you hadn’t spent all your money on that fancy-ass coffee –”

   “It’s called _expanding my horizons_ ,” says Akira crossly.

   (It was actually called ‘being a thirsty bitch but not literally because he didn’t actually get to drink the coffee but it’s a figure of speech, _Ryuji_ ’, but Ryuji maybe did not need to know that part.)

   “Besides, that was like a month ago,” he continues. “Time to let it go, dude.”

   “I’m just saying it’s hard to let stuff go when your _expanded horizons_ are _un-expanding_ my stomach.”

   “What about that four hundred yen you spent on the arcade claw machine the other day?”

   “That was _you_.”

   “Oh yeah. What about that six hundred yen you spent on the other arcade claw machine the other day?”

   “Uh… Shut up.”

   Akira grins.

   “Stop smiling, asshole! You didn’t prove shit!” Ryuji snatches angrily at a home brand cup noodle. But when Akira nudges his shoulder, still grinning, he peeks back with a reluctant grin of his own. “Whatever,” he relents. “Cheap-ass ramen’s alright for another week, I guess.”

   “You bet.” Akira turns around to grab a different home brand of cup noodles and stops in his tracks.

   “Hey, d’you want shitty beef or shitty chicken?” Ryuji turns around when Akira doesn’t reply. “What’s up?”

   “Ryuji,” says Akira. “Remember the fancy coffee?”

   “The one you just told me to forget about?” asks Ryuji. “The one you _had_ to get because you were _so damn thirsty_ you couldn’t wait a block for an effin’ vending machine?”

   “Yeah,” says Akira. “That’s the coffee.” And he points down the aisle at Mr. Sweater Vest, who is in fact not wearing a sweater vest today, but some kind of stupid double-breasted tan-beige-green jacket. It’s a monstrosity. It’s the worst jacket Akira’s ever seen. It should never be seen on a human person of any sort. In fact, it would look far better on the floor. Possibly Akira’s floor. He’s getting off track again. “Over there.”

   Ryuji’s staring at him.

   “Um, you okay, dude?” he asks.

   “What?” Akira shakes himself. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

   “You just,” starts Ryuji, then shakes his head. “That’s a guy. You just pointed at a guy and called him a coffee.”

   “Yeah,” says Akira. He looks away. “I mean, you said it. I was thirsty.”

   Something seems to click behind Ryuji’s eyes.

   “No,” he says.

   “Yeah.”

   “You didn’t buy yourself a fancy coffee.”

   “Correct.”

   “You bought a fancy coffee,” says Ryuji slowly, “for _that_ guy.”

   “It was a chai,” says Akira meekly.

   “You weren’t expanding your horizons!” rages Ryuji. “You were expanding your _pants_! I can’t _believe_ you spent nine hundred yen on that!” He glares at Akira. “D’you know how much _ramen_!”

   “Sorry?” Akira offers.

   Ryuji buries his face in his hands. “Did you even get his number?” he demands.

   “I got _a_ number,” says Akira. “Thirteen. Which is how many yen I had left after I –”

   Ryuji throws a cup noodle at his head. “Go talk to him,” he orders.

   “What?”

   Ryuji scowls. “If you’re gonna throw out nine hundred yen, you better effin’ have something to show for it,” he grouses. “Also, I’m gonna strangle you, so get outta range. And get some cheese.”

   Akira scrambles after Mr. Terrible Jacket.

 

* * *

 

   _Don’t trip on the tiles. Don’t trip on the tiles. Don’t trip on the_ –

   Akira doesn’t trip on the tiles. He gives himself one second to be pleased with himself before he skids on a loose grape and flails into the cheese aisle.

   Mr. Terrible Jacket turns just as Akira manages to arrange himself into a casual pose, leaning against a display pile of cola boxes.

   “We have to stop meeting like this,” he says.

   A dented soda can plops out of a worn box behind him and rolls across the floor. The sadly rhythmic clanging echoes in the ensuing silence.

   Mr. Terrible Jacket smiles. Akira feels like a dented soda can. “We _had_ stopped,” he points out, “until you tripped over yourself to greet me… Quite literally.”

   _I have to leave Japan._ “I didn’t trip over myself,” Akira defends himself. “There’s a grape.”

   “I see,” says Mr. Terrible Jacket. He’s still smiling.

   Akira fidgets.

   “I haven’t seen you at the coffee shop,” he says.

   Mr. Terrible Jacket looks apologetic. “I’ve been busy,” he says. “I do hope you haven’t been waiting there for me.”

   “Course not.” It didn’t count as _waiting_ _there_ if Akira was only going there to look for him in the first place. “Nice to see you again, though.”

   “It is,” agrees Mr. Terrible Jacket. “I enjoyed our conversation. You seem like an interesting person.”

   That could mean anything. “So do you,” says Akira. “I like your jacket.”

   “Thank you,” says Mr. Terrible Jacket. He gestures at Akira’s shirt. “I like your top.”

   Akira glances down and flushes. “My friend gave it to me,” he says, and inwardly curses Futaba for her ironic-unironic obsession with the Steel Samurai.

   “It’s cute,” says Mr. Terrible Jacket.

   “You’re cute,” says Akira.

   Mr. Terrible Jacket’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. Akira feels himself go colder than the cheese in the fridge next to him. _Can you think before you speak one time in your whole life?_

   “I didn’t mean that,” he says.

   “Oh?” asks Mr. Terrible Jacket. “That’s rather a shame. I was flattered.”

   “Oh,” says Akira. “Then… I take back taking it back?”

   Mr. Terrible Jacket smiles at him again. Akira feels his core temperature shoot up again. He might be getting pneumonia from this conversation.

   “What’s your name?” he blurts.

   “Oh,” says Mr. Terrible Jacket. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I haven’t introduced myself yet.” He extends a hand. Akira tries to surreptitiously wipe his own hands on the insides of his pockets before he withdraws one to shake. He looks like he’s gotten trapped in his own pants. This is going terribly.

   “You can call me Akechi,” says Mr. Terrible Jacket. Akechi.

   “Cool,” says Akira. “You can call me.”

   “Sorry?”

   Akira hands him a card from his back pocket. “You can call me,” he repeats. This would be a good time to waggle his eyebrows, if he could figure out how to do that without looking like his face was being invaded by caterpillars. (Thanks, Futaba.)

   Akechi looks at the card. “This is a cheese coupon,” he says.

   “Oh yeah,” says Akira. “I don’t have a business card. Just thought it’d be cooler if I gave you something. Can I have your phone?”

   Akechi looks mildly lost. He slips a hand into his own pocket, takes out his phone, and hands it to Akira. He laughs as Akira takes it. “You’re quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he says.

   “Devilishly handsome?” asks Akira. He doesn’t know how to use this keyboard. His name isn’t Ikea, but Akechi’s phone seems determined. Ikea Kurusu. Acacia. @)84# -

   “Reserving judgement,” replies Akechi, with a wry smile. “What’s _your_ name?”

   “Not Ikea,” mutters Akira. Akechi cocks his head, confused. “Uh – Akira. Kurusu. Akira.”

   “Kurusu,” repeats Akechi. “A pleasure to meet you properly, then, Kurusu.”

   “Right,” says Akira stupidly. He hands the phone back to Akechi, acutely aware of the fingerprints he’s left on the screen. It had been spotless before he touched it. Akechi probably doesn’t have actual hands. He probably just has unicorns on the ends of his arms –

   “I’m afraid I have to duck out on you again,” says Akechi, looking regretful. Akira can’t tell if it’s genuine. He finds he doesn’t care. “I have to finish my shopping quickly so I can return to work.”

   “Right,” says Akira again. “Right, of course. Um, it was nice to see you. Maybe I’ll… see you again?”

   Akechi smiles. “Perhaps,” he says. “Thank you for not scattering my papers this time.”

   “You’re welcome.” _Wait, that wasn’t a real thank you._ “I mean, I’m sorry.”

   Akechi laughs.

   “I look forward to speaking with you again, Kurusu,” he says pleasantly, and surely, _surely_ not even Akechi can vanish into a brightly lit grocery – _and_ he’s gone.

   Ryuji pops up from behind the end of the aisle.

   “You didn’t get his number,” he accuses.

   “Huh?” Akira blinks at him. “You were _eavesdropping_?”

   “You gave him your number but you didn’t even get his,” laments Ryuji. “What if he never calls? You’ll never see him again.”

   “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

   “Whatever. Didja get the cheese?”

   “Uh,” says Akira. “I gave him my coupon.”

   Ryuji throws his hands in the air. “Of course you did,” he grumbles. “Of course you effin’ – You’re a goddamn moron. No money, no cheese, no _fucking_ –”

   “Don’t count that last one out yet.”

   “The la- Oh dude, _gross_ , I wasn’t finished –”

   “That’s what she said.”

   “– TALKING! GOD, you’re the _worst_.”

 

* * *

 

 **[Akechi]** _Thank you for the cheese coupon._

_You used it?_

**[Akechi]** _Yes. I saved 20% on some brie, which I don’t usually buy._

 **[Akechi]** _I’m looking forward to this new experience._

_Expand your horizons_

_I didn’t think you’d use it._

_I was gonna ask for it back._

_Need cheese_

**[Akechi]** _Really? Perhaps you shouldn’t have given it to me._

_Yep, probably._

_Worth it though._

_I bet it looked super cool._

**[Akechi]** _If that’s what you need to believe._

 

* * *

 

   “I have to admit I’m surprised to see you here,” says Akechi, smiling dubiously at him over a helmet rack. “You didn’t strike me as the biking type.”

   “Dunno what you’re talking about,” says Akira, brimming with confidence.

   Confidence that Akechi had been facing the other way when Akira darted into the bicycle shop and grabbed a pair of spare handlebars to keep his cover the moment he’d spotted the familiar mop of soft hair and terrible fashion sense.

   “I’m a real – uh – bike fanatic,” Akira says. “Got the, um. The thrills for the – wh…ills. Wheels.” He needs a rhyming dictionary. “My heart aches for the brakes.” Actually, he needs to be thrown out the window immediately.

   Akechi bites back an amused smile. “Right,” he says. “Is yours a mountain bike or a road bike?”

   Are those different? “Yeah,” Akira says lamely. “That – that one. That you said. Second.”

   Akechi laughs.

   “You don’t have to be so nervous,” he says. “I think it’s cute, actually.”

   “What is?” asks Akira. He lifts his handlebars, aware only at the last moment that he’s been gripping them with both hands like he’s riding an invisible bicycle. _Blending right in here._ “My sweet bars?”

   Akechi eyes them. “Well, of course,” he says, and cracks another smile. “Although I’m partial to Gudetama, myself.”

   Akira looks down at the bars.

   “Oh,” he says, and turns as pink as he has now realised the handlebars are. “Um. You know me. Gotta have that – quality Hello Kitty merch.”

   “Of course,” says Akechi pleasantly. “I have to say, though – they do look rather small for you. Were you hoping to simply mount them to your wall as a… decoration?”

   “I was actually thinking I might use them to bludgeon myself to death with,” mumbles Akira, staring at the handlebars.

   “What?”

   “I mean,” says Akira. “I was gonna give them to my little sister.”

   “Oh, you have a sister?”

   “No.”

   “…Oh.”

   Uncomfortable silence.

   “So do you… bike a lot?” asks Akira.

   “Yes,” says Akechi, looking relieved. “Yes, quite often. I’m hoping to squeeze some in this weekend before I leave for Yokohama.”

   “You’re going to Yokohama this weekend?”

   “For some meetings,” says Akechi. He wrinkles his nose. (Cute.) (Shut up.) “I’m not exactly looking forward to those, but hopefully I’ll get _some_ time to myself, at least.”

   “Hopefully,” echoes Akira. “Well, do you want to go for dinner?”

   Akechi blinks. “Now?”

   “In Yokohama.”

   “…Are you going to Yokohama this weekend, too?” asks Akechi, looking bemused.

   “Yeah,” says Akira, hastily planning a trip to Yokohama in his head. “Cool coincidence, huh?”

   “It… certainly is,” says Akechi. He smiles, looking mildly delighted and trying to hide it. “Well, my weekend is looking up, isn’t it?”

   “Mine sure is,” says Akira. “I’ll call you.”

   “Yes,” says Akechi, and beams at him. “Yes, please do. Enjoy your commemorative handlebars, Kurusu.” He heads for the counter, leaving Akira standing by the helmet rack.

   He takes out his phone to check his bank account. Then he resists the urge to throw his phone out the window. Instead, he scrolls frantically through his contacts.

   “ _Futabaga. State your business, unless it’s boring._ ”

   “Help, I can’t afford to go to Yokohama.”

   “ _Why are you going to Yokohama?!_ ”

   “To expand my horizons. Can I borrow a thousand yen?”

 

* * *

 

   _“This is Akechi Goro. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, but it seems I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message, and I promise I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”_ _BEEP._

   “Uh. Hey. Hey, it’s Ak- it’s Kurusu. Um, I’m at the train station, so if you – wait. Wait, never mind. Never mind.” _Click._

   Akechi is just glancing curiously at his phone when Akira jogs up, panting. He looks up, surprised. “Oh,” he says. “Oh! It’s you!”

   Akira briefly wonders if he should use the last of his breath to recover from his frantic sprint across the station or to make a shitty joke about Akechi taking his breath away. “Call was me,” he gasps. “Saw you. Hung up. You’re pretty,” he finishes, and then doubles over to cough up his lungs.

   Akechi makes a small sound of alarm. “Are you alright?” he asks, leaning down to try and peer up at Akira’s face. “You’re – Do you need some water?”

   Akira waves vaguely at him. “Station is big,” he wheezes. “Out of shape.”

   Akechi laughs, still looking down at him with wide, slightly concerned eyes. “Here, let’s take a seat,” he offers, and Akira nods helplessly as Akechi guides him to a nearby set of chairs.

   “I can’t believe you ran into me here,” Akechi comments, as Akira tries to get his heart rate down. “I mean, it’s a wild enough coincidence that you scheduled a trip to Yokohama at the same time as I did.”

   He shoots Akira a sideways glance, but Akira is too busy trying to take deep breaths to notice.

   “Yeah,” he manages. “Pretty wild. Want to grab a coffee before you go?”

   Akechi glances at his phone. “I have twenty minutes before I have to meet a colleague,” he says. He smiles at Akira. “I’ll pay.”

 

* * *

 

_There’s a theatre near my hotel._

_And a decent looking restaurant._

**[Akechi]** _Is this your way of asking me to dinner and a movie?_

_Whaaaaat_

_I’m just making conversation!_

_But if you’re so desperate to go on a date with me, I’m not saying no._

**[Akechi]** _Should I assume I’ll be paying again?_

_I’m a gentleman. I’d never let that assumption stand_

_I will however inform you that I used the last of my money on a cool arcade game_

**[Akechi]** _Ha. Did you win?_

_It’s not all about winning, Akechi._

**[Akechi]** _So you lost._

_Do you call enriching your life with new experiences a loss??_

_If you’re talking about the stuffed animal then yeah I absolutely lost_

_Pick me up at 8?_

**[Akechi]** _Certainly, although with your track record I’m not sure we need to arrange a meet-up at all._

 **[Akechi]** _I’m half convinced that if I simply walk into the lobby, you’ll be there squinting at a vending machine._

 **[Akechi]** _:)_

_What can I say! Fate loves pretty boys and so do I ;)_

 

* * *

 

   “You do realise, of course, that I know you arranged this trip solely to follow me here,” Akechi says casually.

   They continue to walk down the river. The reflections in the water light up the night, dancing with the lanterns in the gentle breeze. A child shouts from a passing boat, and Akechi waves at him with a bright smile.

   Akira takes another lick of his ice-cream.

   “Yeah,” he says. He grins at Akechi. There’s a bit of ice-cream on his upper lip as he turns back to watch the river. “Figured you were onto me.”

   “Well,” says Akechi. “I’m not _yet_.”

   When Akira looks back at him, confused, Akechi is smirking.

   _Ah._

   Akechi reaches out to wipe the ice-cream away with his thumb. “I’m free for lunch tomorrow,” he says, “if you wanted to run into me outside the convention centre."

   Akira opens his mouth, and then closes it again. “I’ll check my schedule,” he says weakly.

   “Lovely.”

 

* * *

 

   “So,” says Ryuji. “How was your inter-city booty call?”

   “Stop trying to distract me so you’ll win.”

   “I don’t need to do that!” Ryuji protests, and then rockets off the side of the stage. “Okay, it’d prolly help.”

   Akira grins and waits for Ryuji’s character to respawn before descending on him with a flurry of fresh attacks. “Wasn’t a booty call.”

   “So ya didn’t get any,” Ryuji concludes, and Akira swats him. “Hey! Keep violence in-game.”

   “You’re gross,” says Akira. “First date. I’m a gentleman. He bought me coffee.”

   “Oh, so you’re even.”

   “And a movie ticket.”

   “Oh, so you owe him?”

   “And dinner, and ice-cream, and lunch the next day,” adds Akira. “And two hundred credits at the arcade, but I won him one of those toy peapod things so I’m calling that one even.”

   Ryuji puts his controller down. “So you got a sugar daddy?” he demands.

   “What! No!” Akira uses the opportunity to demolish Ryuji’s character again. “I just happen to be very broke and very charming.”

   Ryuji shakes his head. “You disgust me,” he announces. “But get your new boyfriend to pay rent this month. I bought a new video game two days ago and I hate myself.”

   “Relatable content.”

   “Shut your damn face.”

 

* * *

 

 **[Akechi]** _I’m happy for you to just call me Goro, I think._

_What brings on the upgrade?_

**[Akechi]** _You’ve just sent me seventeen hedgehog videos in a row, completely unprompted._

_Yeah_

**[Akechi]** _At 1:27AM._

 **[Akechi]** _And I’m still talking to you._

 **[Akechi]** _It’s safe to say we’re close enough at this point._

_Good point_

_You know what else makes good points_

**[Akechi]** _Hedgehogs?_

_I can’t talk to you anymore. You know my jokes too well._

_You can call me Akira too._

**[Akechi]** _Thank you._

 **[Akechi]** _I sort of made that assumption when you sent me seventeen hedgehog videos in a row, but I appreciate the formality._

 

* * *

 

   “Hi,” says Akira, wiping his hands off on a cloth and glancing up at the counter. “What can I get for holy shit, it’s you.”

   Goro gives him a sheepish smile. “Hi?” he offers. “Sorry, I saw you in the window and I couldn’t resist the temptation to take a leaf out of your book.”

   “So that’s why you look so good today,” says Akira. He offers Goro a rakish grin. _God, I’m so cool._

   His manager glares at him and he hastily rearranges his face into its practiced ‘serviceably neutral’. “Can I help you with anything,” he drones. “I recommend the raspberry muffins.”

   Goro laughs. “One of those, then,” he says, “and your break time, if you will.”

   Akira gasps. “Sir, you can’t hit on the baristas while we’re on duty,” he says, affronted. “I am a service professional, and you are being inappropriate.” He shoots a sideways glance at his manager. She’s not looking. “I get off at 2:30.”

   “Do you, now,” says Goro flatly. He smirks as he reaches into his wallet. “How much?”

   Akira grins at him. “Four hundred twenty yen,” he says, and can’t resist the urge to add, “Nice.”

   Goro rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he says.

   “I didn’t,” says Akira. “Started last week. Figured I’m gonna need some cash if I wanna take you on a proper date.” _I should wink now._

 _Oh no, that looked like a spasm._ “That was a wink.”

   “It was an attempt,” corrects Goro.

   _I am the worst human in the world and I deserve death._

“A cute attempt,” Goro adds.

   _I am the GREATEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED._

   Goro smiles. “I appreciate the effort,” he says. “You don’t need to try so hard to impress me, though.”

   “Because I’m already so impressive?” asks Akira, trying for another smooth grin.

   “Because I make more than you could ever dream to do here,” says Goro, and Akira deflates. “You do look awfully sweet in that apron, though.”

   “This conversation is an emotional rollercoaster,” mutters Akira, and Goro laughs.

   The toaster oven dings. Akira hastily scribbles something on the paper bag and shoves it at Goro. “See you in a bit.”

   “Ta.” Goro takes the bag and looks at it. “I see you remembered my fondness for Gudetama.”

   “Yeah,” Akira says. “Also, eggs are the only thing I know how to draw.”

   “It’s… really just two circles.”

   “ _Art_!”

   Goro smiles. “I’ll be around,” he says. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you where. You’ll find me regardless, with that uncanny ability of yours.”

   “You know it,” says Akira. He smirks. “I hone in on the cutest person in the area. It’s a god given gift.”

   “It must be annoying to have a signal on yourself everywhere you go,” Goro shoots back, and he’s walking out the door before Akira can blink. “Thank you for the muffin,” he calls over his shoulder.

   _Asshole_.

   His manager snaps her fingers in front of his eyes and he flinches. “Back to work, Kurusu.”

   “Right. Got it.” Akira turns to the unnerved customer he’s been blankly staring at for ten seconds. “Sorry about that. Can I get you something sweet? I recommend the muffins, or my sort-of boyfriend.”

   “Kurusu!”

   “Sorry, boss.”

 

* * *

 

   “Akira?”

   Akira shushes him as he slips into the seat beside Goro. “Hey,” he whispers. “Or should I say, _bonjour_?”

   “You should not,” Goro whispers back. He glances furtively around the theatre. “What are you doing here?”

   Akira shrugs. “Same as you,” he says. “I just love French cinema.” He grins. “Or as they say in France, _je t’adore_.”

   “That means you love _me_ ,” Goro points out.

   “Oh. Wait, then what’s –”

   “ _Shh_ ,” hisses someone behind them, and Goro turns to wave apologetically at them.

   “Let’s talk after the film, shall we?” he whispers.

   “But I have to impress you with my French skills,” complains Akira. “ _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?_ ”

   Goro gives him a flat look. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt,” he says, “and just assume you don’t know what that means.”

   “What?” Akira blinks. “Wait, doesn’t it mean ‘you have pretty eyes’?”

   “It does not.”

   “Oh. But then what was that guy –”

   “ _Shh,_ ” comes the voice again, and Akira sinks down into his seat.

   “ _Je suis –_ desolate,” he whispers, and Goro buries his face in his hands.

 

* * *

 

   “Were you really in there due to your passion for French cinema?” Goro asks as they exit into the lobby two hours later.

   “I was in there due to my passion for _something_ in the cinema,” says Akira, and Goro groans.

   “This is a high-end cinema,” he says. “Tickets are upwards of three thousand yen. Could you not have met me somewhere else?”

   “I can afford it,” says Akira defensively. “I just won’t eat for the next few – weeks.”

   Goro rolls his eyes. “I’ll treat you to lunch,” he sighs.

   Akira beams. “You're having lunch with me? I mean, _en Français_ \- _s’il vous plaît_ – uh – _manger… moi?_ ” he says,  and looks pleased with himself.  _Nailed it?_

   Goro looks at him. “I think I’ll pass,” he says drily. "What do you feel like?"

   “Something cool and fancy and French,” Akira says, “like – a _croissant_.”

   “That’s bread.”

   “A _baguette._ ”

   “That’s also bread.”

   “Do they _only_ eat bread in France? That’s painful.” Akira shakes his head. “ _Eiffel Tower._ ”

   “That’s – never mind. I’ll choose.”

   “What about you?” Akira asks, as they start walking to the food district. “What draws you to French cinema?”

   “Culture,” Goro sniffs, and then deflates when Akira squints at him. “Keeping up appearances,” he amends. He shoots Akira a furtive look. “Actually, I would rather be watching the new _Space Wars_. I’ve, uh.” Goro looks down and adjusts his gloves, looking self-conscious. “Been looking forward to it for a while.”

   _That’s so cute. This is fucking illegal._

    Goro coughs. “You can’t tell anyone that, okay?” he says, looking embarrassed. “I have a reputation.”

   _Oh my god, nerd. If we were in high school I’d be shoving him into a locker. Not in a kinky way. Maybe in a kinky –_ “Your secret’s safe with me,” Akira smiles. “So who shot first?”

   “Oh, don’t even start.”

 

* * *

 

_I have a confession_

_Forgive me father for I have sinned_

**[Goro]** _Don’t say that. If you start calling me “daddy” I’ll have to delete your number._

_GORO NO_

**[Goro]** _Relax, I’m joking!_

 **[Goro]** _Only partly, though. In all seriousness, don’t you dare._

_What do you take me for!!_

**[Goro]** _A disaster, to be quite honest. What was this confession you were talking about?_

_You know that amazing movie we watched today?_

**[Goro]** _Was it amazing? I seem to recall you falling asleep halfway through._

_Yes and it was the best nap I’ve had in days_

_You’re not going to believe this, but I didn’t actually go to watch the movie._

**[Goro]** _Well now, you can’t expect me to believe THAT!_

_I know! :O_

**[Goro]** _Are you finally going to confess to following me around now?_

_You make it sound creepy!_

_Fine, a few of the times I accidentally bumped into you were more like accidentally-on-purpose._

_I’m not FOLLOWING you! I genuinely happen to be in the general area when I see you._

**[Goro]** _So instead of walking up and saying hello like a normal person, you cling to this ridiculous charade?_

_I’m ECCENTRIC sue me_

**[Goro]** _You’re absurd._

 **[Goro]** _Luckily for you, I find you charming._

 **[Goro]** _In an absurd way._

_SCORE_

_So I was hoping the theatre would be a good place to kiss you_

_Goro??_

**[Goro]** _Sorry, I’m still here._

_I fell asleep, so that plan went out the window._

_Can I reschedule?_

_These silences are hard to read._

**[Goro]** _Well, I’m sorry! You can’t just spring something like that on someone and expect them to know what to say._

_Why not? You’ve got the sharpest tongue I know_

_Hot, by the way_

**[Goro]** _Oh my god_

_It’s not like I’m subtle. I like you._

_I drew an egg for you. I got a JOB for you_

**[Goro]** _You have spent rather a lot of money for my sake._

 **[Goro]** _Ill-advised, I’d say, considering the state of your bank account._

_You don’t know anything about my bank account!_

**[Goro]** _Please, I don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes._

_You’d look cute in a deerstalker._

_Go out with me?_

**[Goro]** _We’ve been out multiple times._

_Don’t be an ass. Come to the park with me tomorrow. For a date._

**[Goro]** _A date?_

_Oh my god it’s what two people do when they like each other_

_Among other things_

**[Goro]** _I KNOW what a date is!_

 _Do you know what the other things are_ _;)_

 **[Goro]** _Any chance of me saying yes is rapidly disappearing the more you speak, you know._

_No pls_

_At least let me tell you I like you in person._

_Plus if you don’t want me to kiss you, you can slap me in the face._

_That sounds fun._

**[Goro]** _Fun for you? Is this what the kids call kinkshaming?_

_Jesus on a fucking bicycle_

**[Goro]** _Language._

_Jesus on a fucking vélo_

 

* * *

 

   “Well, fancy seeing you here.”

   Akira sits up so quickly that the world tips slightly. He winces and puts a hand to his head. “Hey, you came.”

   “I did,” Goro agrees. He sits in the grass beside Akira and looks out on the lake. “This is a nice spot.”

   “I like trees,” Akira shrugs. “Nice and shady here.”

   “It is,” says Goro. “So? What was your big plan for today?”

   “Kiss you,” says Akira. “At some point. Until then it’s hazy. Any ideas?”

   Goro only splutters for half a second. “We could take a walk,” he suggests.

   “That’s an option.”

   “We could rent a boat?”

   “You could rent a boat,” Akira corrects, “and I will sit in it, free of charge.”

   Goro rolls his eyes. “We could go and get a cup of coffee – yes, I’ll pay,” he says impatiently, when Akira opens his mouth.

   Akira grins. “All good choices,” he says. “Why’d you come?”

   Goro blinks. “You asked me here,” he points out.

   “Yes,” says Akira, “on a date, so I could kiss you. And here you are.” He cocks his head, grinning. “So, let me follow your reasoning?”

   Goro sets his jaw. “It’s hazy,” he says stiffly.

   “You like me!” Akira teases.

   “You’re persistent,” Goro counters. He smiles, wry. “You try having some stray cat follow you across the city and not stooping to pet it at _some_ point.”

   “Did you just call me a cat?!”

   Goro considers. “Fluffy hair,” he says. “Awake at all hours. Pretends to be cool.”

   “I’m _genuinely_ cool.”

   “No sense of personal space,” Goro continues, like he hadn’t spoken. He nudges Akira, smirking. “I’d say I’ve accidentally adopted a housecat.”

   “So if you wanna kiss me,” Akira persists, “does that make you a furry?”

   “You’d have to be one, too,” Goro points out.

   “I’ll take one for the team,” says Akira, and sticks one hand under his chin. “You know, like, nya.”

   Goro snorts. “You might be the worst person I’ve ever met.”

   “Still wanna kiss me?”

   “I never said I did,” huffs Goro. “You assumed.”

   “Didn’t deny it.”

   Goro doesn’t say anything.

   Akira leans closer. “You’re pretty,” he says, so that Goro can definitely feel Akira’s breath on his skin when he talks. “Must be fate we keep running into each other. Can I kiss you, Goro?”

   The corner of Goro’s mouth twitches, and he catches his bottom lip between his teeth to stop it. “God damn you,” he breathes through a reluctant smile, and Akira grins in lazy victory as he leans forward and slips a hand around to the back of Goro’s head.

 

* * *

 

   “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this,” Akira mumbles.

   Goro’s hands slow, still tangled in his hair. “You’re in my apartment,” he says. “Watching my TV. With your head in my lap.”

   “Yeah,” says Akira. He peers up at Goro. “Fate works in mysterious ways, right?”

 

* * *

 

   Akira gasps. “Stop everything,” he says, slapping one hand to his cheek and the other to Ann's face. She splutters as he smacks her nose. “I just saw an angel.”

   Ann rolls her eyes until Akira gives her a Look. “Oh my god,” she says in a monotone, grinning nonetheless. “What are the odds.”

   “I’ve been blessed by the heavens,” Akira declares. “Tell me, angel! What has brought you here, such that I may lay eyes on you on this fated day?”

   “Are you going to do this every time you ask me to meet you?” asks a frustrated Goro.

   “The angel speaks!” Akira squawks, and Ann can’t help but giggle as he swoops in to peck Goro on the cheek. “Hey, babe.”

   “I regret you.”

   “Okay. Can you buy my lunch? I spent all my money again.”

   “On what?!”

   “Don’t freak out, but we are now the proud parents of,” Akira produces a box, “a brand-new ukulele! Say hi.”

   Goro's face is completely expressionless as he addresses the ukulele. “Your father and I are getting a divorce.”

   “ _What_?!”

 

* * *

 

   “Goro! Wow, what are the odds!”

   “We drove here _together_. You just got out the other side of the car.”

   “I’m starting to think it’s not just coincidence we keep running into each other, you know.”

   “Oh, my god.”

   “It’s fate. Kismet. Desti- Wait, babe, don’t leave me here –”

 

* * *

 

   The entry bell chimes, and Goro blinks.

   “Akira,” he says. “I… Ah, I didn’t… expect to see you here.”

   Akira stares at him.

   And then he stares at the display sprawled across the jewellery store counter.

   He closes the door slowly. Thumbs at the phone in his pocket, with its hundreds of tabs open on how to pick out an engagement ring.

   “No,” he says, and means it for the first time in years. “Neither did I.”

 

* * *

 

   (“Well, fancy seeing you here,” Akira grins as Goro joins him at the altar, and Goro chokes back a sound that’s half-laugh, half-sob as he punches Akira in the shoulder.) 

**Author's Note:**

> * that thing where akira follows akechi to another city pretending it was a coincidence? based on a true story. specifically, my cousin and his girlfriend that he met on twitter. they're married now. this shit works, guys.  
> 
> * the _voulez-vous coucher avec moi_ joke was inspired by brooklyn nine-nine because i love brooklyn nine-nine.  
> 
> *  _space wars_ is from a knock-off lego set i saw in china, which delighted me.  
> 
> * "i wonder if 'painful' is a bread pun" it absolutely is and you get three hundred dollars for wondering. you're welcome. 
> 
> (if you want to read my actual serious persona fic, i have a shameless plug for you!! i currently have an ongoing multichapter called ["into the sea"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12323832/) which is a canon divergent fic about akechi bonding individually with the phantom thieves, but it's **spoiler city** so make sure you've finished the game first!!  <3)
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gIadio_amicitia) or [tumblr](gladiolus---amicitia.tumblr.com) to say hiya and/or support me!!


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